Flowers
by A Bit Closer Johnny
Summary: The torrid relationship between Heathcliff & Catherine set admidst the backdrop of the macabre mansion, Wuthering Heights. Such a tormentous romance. Can it be salvaged? An infinitesimal hope for love in a missing scene in the novel, Wuthering Heights.


Flowers

Heathcliff & Catherine, a doomed love. If only, if only...

* * *

"Catherine", an urgent voice called.

Catherine abruptly halted her walk through the field on the moors, on her way to Peniston Crags—the mystical place where she used to play with Heathcliff—and though it was childish, her heart rose in happiness as she thought of those times.

She heard footsteps close approaching her; each step making a soft crushing sound as the beautiful lilac flowers which grew in abundance were treaded on underfoot.

A strong hand was laid upon Catherine's shoulder, and she turned to gaze into dark eyes; such eyes filled with a burning intensity. She studied the chiseled, smoldering visage; the tan skin; the wild gypsy hair—Heathcliff. Her Heathcliff.

She suddenly gave a shuddering breath as a single tear dropped from her blue, baby-doll eye, falling down a porcelain cheek.

"Cathy", Heathcliff murmured softly, gently brushing the tear away with his thumb, and then tucked behind her ear a flaxen curl which had fallen loose before her eyes.

She bit her lips, but could not help the tears from coming, and soon she was nestled into Heathcliff's tight embrace; Heathcliff passing his hand over her hair as he tried to soothe her.

"It's not fair—it's not fair!" Catherine cried in vexation.

"Catherine."

She brought her tear-stained eyes to meet his, expecting sympathy, but his voice was stern.

He placed his hands on her shoulders, pushing her slightly away from him.

"You didn't go with Edgar and Isabella Linton on the carriage ride", Heathcliff stated.

Catherine frowned in annoyance—apparently not!

"No", she huffed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

"Why?" he pressed.

Catherine sighed. "Because! I—"

She suddenly stopped herself, not willing to admit the real reason. She didn't want to go with the Linton's. She knew Edgar fancied her and would give in to her every whim, but she grew tired of being treated like a princess by him—his pale lips set in a pale face which cracked as he smiled adoringly at her; his unreadable, languid blue eyes…

Today she wanted something more. She wanted adventure. She wanted to act like a child again and run as fast as she could across the moors and dream of faeries and magic kingdoms, and collect lilac flowers to put in her hair…like she used to do with Heathcliff.

"You were thinking about Peniston Crags, weren't you?" Heathcliff's thick, accented voice interrupted her thoughts.

He always knew what she was thinking. "Oh. Heathcliff", she sighed, giving in. "You do think about it too, don't you?"

His eyes softened. "Yes—and I think about you."

Catherine felt the heat rising into her cheeks.

"I think about you—and the way you used to run and laugh. I was King and you were my Queen, and we would ride our ponies up and down these very moors. Oh, dear Catherine, there are some many memories." He gave a half-smile, though there was pain in his eyes. "Good and bad." He rushed his hand across her cheek. "I think of you so much, Cathy, and how much I—"

"No, Heathcliff! Stop—stop!" Catherine exclaimed; her eyes wide with panic, as she shook her head, causing her curls to bounce.

"We mustn't—we can't!" she cried, and without another word, she tore away from him, running as fast as her feet could carry her, until she disappeared behind the bend, and Heathcliff stood and watched her, listening to her sobs which died away.

He clenched his hands and angrily brushed away his own tears as he sat upon the ground, fixing his gaze upon the spot where Catherine, sweet Catherine, had been standing.

He then averted his eyes to the ground and gingerly picked a perfect lilac flower. Closing his eyes, he breathed in the sweet, fragrant scent. His heart begged for Catherine. He longed for her to race into his arms again so that he could twine the beautiful flowers into her beautiful hair.

* * *

A/N: Despite death, their love lingers as it should as they walk together, ghostly upon the moors of Wuthering Heights, watching over their descendents, Hareton & Cathy, as a new generation of Lintons & Earnshaws emerges. Please review and the wretched beauty of a love so passionate as had by Heathcliff & Catherine will be restored : ) 


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